


Clywed

by telemachus



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Reaction, Shock, parenting, trying so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemachus/pseuds/telemachus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…..he’s HIV positive. He’s not supposed to smoke, and he needs to eat – properly……”</p>
<p>Doors aren't soundproof, Gethin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clywed

“…..he’s HIV positive. He’s not supposed to smoke, and he needs to eat – properly……”

There’s more, but I don’t hear it, can’t take it in.

Because I know; already I have come to recognise that tone of voice. That tone which is used only for one person.

I know who he’s talking about.

Jonathan.

The actor.

My son’s wonderful, amazing, perfect saint – the man who must, I realise, be the one I passed, the one with the shaggy hair, the dissolute lines on his face, the ring in one ear – the one who was busy changing the flowers in a vase, who sent this lad to show me where my Gethin is.

The one who couldn’t look at me, or speak to me.

Now I know why.

And all the anger, the confusion I have been fighting rushes back.

If he’s so wonderful, so perfect, so – everything – why wasn’t he there? Why is my son, my little boy, lying here, injured?

Why wasn’t this – actor – protecting him?

But more – why – how dare he – how dare he – touch – and I can’t even bring myself to think the words for more than that – my little boy with this – this sickness? This disease – this plague?

How dare he?

My little boy – always one to care for others, to put himself out – to be kind, to do the right thing – and this – this – actor – takes advantage of him.

I can hear it in his voice, in the worry, the care, the desperation – oh my little boy – you shouldn’t – shouldn’t take it all on your shoulders so.

I’m angry.

I’m afraid.

Afraid of what will become of my little boy, my son, my Gethin-bach.

Afraid – not just of what I will see, of the injuries, the marks today – but now, now I am afraid of what is to come, of the gaunt figures with huge eyes, the dying, the dead. I thought – he told me he was well, that I did not need to fear that anymore – and I was grateful.

I thought – maybe I can learn to be polite to this – actor; if he means my Gethin is safe, maybe I can do this.

But now – now I know that he is the biggest danger of all.

I want to tell him to get out, to leave my son alone, to take his contamination, his disease, and get away from my son.

I no longer have the right to do so. Sixteen years of silence forfeited any hope of that.

And I know, in my heart I know, that it would not be right. Our Lord washed the feet of sinners, healed the sick, touched lepers and spoke kindly to the woman taken in adultery.

Help me, Lord, I think, help me do this.

I take a deep breath, and I follow this lad as he opens the door, and when my little boy looks at me, I find – I find I don’t think of any of it.

I just see my little boy, hurt, needing me – and smiling, smiling and lit up like the sun as he says,

“Hello,” and then, introducing me to this – whoever-she-is, “that’s my mum.”

**Author's Note:**

> Clywed is, I believe, the Welsh word for Overheard. I am happy to be corrected if Google has let me down.......
> 
>  
> 
> Please don't judge her too harshly - remember the time - it isn't good news, or even bad news, its terrible news.


End file.
